ilyiw, for Christmas: a gift from the heart
by cpneb
Summary: If lovin' you is wrong, for Christmas... a gift from the heart.What do you do for someone who took you in after you’d been tossed aside, like damaged goods, or for someone who has treated you with more kindness and respect and…say it, Love?


_**If lovin' you is wrong, for Christmas: …a gift from the heart**_

Disclaimer/Author's Notes: Kim Possible and all the characters of the show are owned by the Disney Corporation. All other characters are the creation of the author and may not be used without his permission.

This is a strictly not-for-profit, just-for-fun work…at this time.

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**A/N Forward: **

What do you do for someone who took you in after you'd been tossed aside, like damaged goods?

What do you do for someone who has treated you with more kindness and respect and…say it, Love, than you'd ever had in your life?

_**If lovin' you is wrong, for Christmas**_

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…_**a gift from the heart.**_

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(Her)

I tried to understand what she had done to him and why she hadn't talked to him. I failed, every time I began.

I'd break down in tears, thinking about how he suffered silently in his loss, in his inability to move forward. I never let him see me like this, though: I didn't want him to know.

I cried for the last time, last night, and I decided that, come hell or high water, I was going to get an answer.

I pulled up in front of her house, barely managing to find a parking space with all of the cars parked outside. Revelers, enjoying a holiday party: an ability that she had denied to him, and my eyes got wet once again.

'Head in the game, Betty!' I laughed to myself. 'If she reports you, you could be fired, let alone ended up in jail.'

"I don't care," I said out loud as I walked up to the front door, my pistol in my holster inside my suede jacket.

'He deserves this.'

I was going to get what I came for, or someone was not going to be very happy.

(Him)

What do you get the woman who, metaphorically, lifted you up from the depths and treats you like a person: a real person?

She believed that I had not heard her, every time that she cried for me and berated herself and Vivian for the way that she treated me. After all, my hearing was very good; but I did not tell her what I had heard.

'I still did not understand Christmas and gift-giving,' I thought as I sat at my bar, watching the last of the college students laugh and wish each other good cheer of the liquid kind. Well, it was partially mine: she had helped me understand human nature enough that, when Sato decided to concentrate on his restaurant and food, I was able to purchase a half-interest from him.

Me, a bar owner: she laughed when I told her, and she hugged me.

I, at least, still had a beautiful customer who enjoyed the 'Fryer's Paradise.'

At the cognitive level, Christmas was logical: help those less fortunate than you. They tried to do it all year long, but they sometimes failed.

After all, they were only human.

A small joke? Perhaps she was rubbing off on me more than I had realized.

They, at least, concentrated this time of the year on 'following their hearts,' as they would say: the picture of their human hearts pulling them on a leash did amuse me a bit, but she told me that she had never pictured that when she first heard the line.

She, simply put, was my savior, and I understood their Christmas stories from that perspective: I had, indeed, been saved, even though I had not realized that I was lost.

She did not even laugh at me when I sang to her; surprisingly, she encouraged me to practice. "You have a lovely voice," she had told me and kissed my cheek.

I did not remove the light imprint of her touch for the entire weekend, only doing so when she realized (with an amazingly beautiful blush, I might add) that I was going to work Monday morning with lipstick on my face. She wiped it off, wiped off her lipstick (why she wore it, I will never understand: her lips were beautiful, with or without it), and kissed me, allowing me to have the feel without the, as the younger former-Montana-resident Miss Possible would say, 'visible branding.'

I still did not understand what I should purchase for her Christmas gift.

I finally decided (after 2.7 seconds of rumination: a long time in my world) to contact an old acquaintance: Mr. Ronald Dean Stoppable.

Perhaps I should invite him for a Naco: that might allow his 'creative juices to flow,' as Ned would say.

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(Her)

She opened the door, dressed in her finest 'little red dress' and matching heels, her hair swept up, baring her neck for the lonely vampires in the world. Appropriately enough, she was holding a 'bloody Mary.' She, no doubt, had every scientist west of the Mississippi, 'in a tiz-zy,' as Ron Stoppable would have said in his younger days.

"Betty! What a surprise! I'm glad you could make it!" Vivian hugged me and felt my shoulder holster. "Packing tonight?" she asked as she released me and smiled.

"Vivian, we need to talk…now," I motioned away from the mass of people in her living room.

"Why?" she asked, and I patted my holster.

**That** got her attention, and she led me, through the mass of people, to her offices in the back of her home.

She walked through the door. I followed, closing it and locking it behind me.

"What's up, Betty?" She asked as she turned, looking at me and still holding her drink. "Sooner or later, someone's going to ask where I snuck off to."

"It's about him, Viv," I said.

"Who?"

"Oliver."

"He's not here anymore: I sent him away," she said with a nonchalance that made me want to ring her neck and kill her where she stood.

"Why?"

"I had a new boyfriend, and he was extremely nervous with Oliver always around, so I sent him away."

"Why didn't you tell him that, Viv?"

"Why would I need to, Betty? He **was** just a robot, after all," and that did it.

SLAP!

Vivian looked at me with…surprise?

I slapped her again.

"Why did you do that, Betty?"

"Well, you were just there, and I felt the need to hit someone: how did it feel, Viv?"

"I didn't like it," she had lost her bubbly look and the hand imprint was growing on her face.

"Now, you have a one-ten-thousandth idea of what you did to him, Viv," I snarled, and she looked at me and LAUGHED!

"Oh, Betty, have you fallen for him?" She laughed. "How pathetic!"

"Pathetic: coming from the woman who couldn't find a date, and, finally had to 'build her own?' Sounds a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, Viv," and Vivian glared at me, more than a bit of embarrassment on her face.

"Having him trained by Midas?" Vivian blushed. "That certainly must have made you happy for a long time, Viv, and you repaid him by kicking him out of your life? Did you **ever** stop to think of how that would make him feel?" By now, I was barely resisting the temptation to simply pull out my pistol and plant one between her eyes.

"Having him read the 'Kama Sutra?' You have a different definition of pathetic than I," I added.

"What do you want, Betty?" she growled back, reaching towards a phone handset.

She stopped moving when she looked and realized that the barrel of my silencer was pointed at the phone and her hand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Viv," I smiled.

"What do you want?" she asked again, much less growl in her voice, this time.

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(Him)

"So, Oliver, what's got you all hot and bothered this wonderful season?"

Ronald sat across from me in the booth in the rear of the Middleton Bueno Nacho.

"Ron, I need some help with a Christmas present," I told him, and he dropped his Naco back onto the wrapper.

"Since **when** did you start buying Christmas presents, Oliver?"

"When I had someone who cared about me: a good friend, Ron."

"Betty, huh?" Ron smiled.

"Beth Director; you are correct, Ron." He said nothing about the name I used, but I noted the twinkle in his eye and his smile was a bit bigger.

"You're a very lucky man, Oliver."

"Thank you, Ron."

"For what?"

"For calling me a man."

"You are; oh, the parts may be a bit different, guy, but you are most **definitely** a man," Ron replied, taking another bite of Naco.

"Thank you, just the same: I know we did not get off on the right foot when we first met," I stated, and Ron chuckled, "but I have always thought of you as a friend, someone I could talk to."

"Thank you, Oliver: that means a lot, coming from you."

"You are most welcome, Ron."

"So, what do you want to get her?"

"That, sir, is my problem: I do not know.

"What **does** one purchase for the most brilliant and beautiful woman that exists on the planet?" I asked, and Ron grinned.

"Well," Ron smiled, "only the most beautiful things are what she should have," he stood and motioned for me to stand, as well.

"You did not finish your Naco, Ron," I noted.

"Correct, oh wise one," he laughed, "but this is more important."

"More _**important**_ that your Naco?" I looked surprised, primarily because I was surprised: I had never seen Ron leave a Naco on the table.

"Most definitely, Oliver: it's for a friend in need," he answered, and we left the restaurant.

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(Her)

"I want the key to set him free, Viv: I know you, and I know you made one, so hand it over, and I'll be gone."

"Why do you care?"

"Because," my eyes clouded for a bit, and I continued, 'because it's Christmas, and he deserves a present for the first time in his life," I had told her part of my plan, and she smiled.

"How sweet," and she moved her hand.

The phone quietly exploded. She looked back at my barely-smoking pistol.

"I'm serious, Viv: cough it up, and I'll leave."

"All right: it's in my safe. I'll have to move to get to it: is that all right?"

I knew where her safe was, so I nodded. As she turned and walked to the wall, I quickly cleared the chamber and changed clips. It helps to be good at what you do: she never heard a sound.

She spun the combination several times and opened the door, retrieving a small package from the safe. She turned, holding it in her hand and smiling.

"It's in here" she smiled as she opened the small box and held up the vial.

"That's it?"

"That's it. Have him drink this; it'll circulate throughout his body and ultimately into his posi-chem brain, and the artificial blood circulation will dissolve the blocks." She placed the vial back into the box and closed it, walking over to me and placing it in my left hand while she stared at the muzzle still pointed at her from my right.

"How long does this take to complete its task?"

"No longer than three-to-five minutes," she smiled.

"Thank you," I said, and I fired.

The small dart struck her in the neck, and she fell like a stone, her glass flying out of her hand as she fell.

"You won't remember any of this," I smiled as I carefully picked up the glass with a napkin and placed it back next to her body.

"But, thank you," I smiled as I turned. I called for a cleanup: phone replacement and elimination of all traces of the old unit. They were there in under five minutes and out in under three, all undetected.

I left through the same route I'd entered, and no one noticed Vivian's departure until the 9-1-1- call at 3.10 AM: the paramedics reported that she's had too much to drink and needed to sleep it off; just another Christmas drunk.

Vivian had no clue of what had even possibly happened. She only knew that her key was gone, and she didn't discover that for almost a year.

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(Him)

I was ready, thanks to Ron spending one entire afternoon with me, going through stores, and another at Beth's house, helping me set up.

It was Christmas Eve: Beth had told me that she had to work Christmas Day because she had given her agents time off to be with their families, so she put herself first on the 'cover' list.

She was even more beautiful inside than outside, and I did not think that possible.

I had cleaned her house and prepared a very special dinner, and Ron had even helped me finish the decorations for the tree: she had been too busy with work to do more than getting the tree in the 'right' place, she told me.

I had just lit the candles on the dinner table when I heard the door open.

"Oliver, can you help me…what in the name of Warhok is **this**?"

I came out of the dining room and smiled. She was carrying her huge vase of roses and her briefcase, and she had come to a complete stop at the living room door, the tree lights merrily twinkling from the room and reflecting off of her lovely face.

"I believe, Beth, that it is a Christmas tree," I responded, and she laughed.

"Did **you** do this?"

"Ronald helped me, but yes, I did it. Is there a problem, Beth? I can correct it if there is," I headed toward the tree, but she held up her free hand.

"Take these," she nodded toward the vase. I took it from her, and she rewarded me with a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you, Oliver: this looks like the tree I had at home when I was in High School," she smiled.

"I hope you will not be upset, but I found the image on your screensaver files and tried to duplicate it; did I do it correctly?"

"Yes, you did, Oliver; thank you," and she kissed my cheek once again, "and, thank you for the flowers, too," she kissed my cheek a third time.

She sniffed the air and smiled. "Have you been cooking, too?"

"Yes, Beth: I thought that you could use a Christmas dinner, especially since you would not be here tomorrow. I also made enough that you could take with you tomorrow, so that the others working could have something besides re-heats from those dreadful machines," I told her, and she took the flowers from my hands, placed them on the floor, and did something she had never done before:

She kissed me.

I held her in my arms, and I felt her temperature rise as she told my lips that she was happy with my efforts in the Christmas preparations.

She suddenly jerked back, and she had a massive blush on her face.

"I'm sorry, Oliver,' she stammered. "I don't know **what** came over me, but you were being so nice, so sweet, that…" her voice trailed as she continued to blush.

"I did not object, Beth," I smiled, and I believe that she blushed even more.

"But, we agreed that we wouldn't do that, that we would be friends," she countered.

"I believe that I have images of friends that have kissed on the lips; besides, if you feel a problem with it, consider it your Christmas present to me, for I shall treasure your kiss for a very long time."

"Oliver," she smiled, her blush disappearing, "_**what**_ am I going to do with you?"

"I do not understand."

"You can't be this nice and be real: I must have been dreaming for the past 11 months, ever since you came," she smiled.

"Why don't you take these," she picked up the flowers and handed them to me, "and take them to the dining room for me," she took my hand and, together, we walked into the dining room.

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(Her)

He placed the flowers on the side table and went into the kitchen, and I sat, thinking about what I had in my briefcase.

Should I try to sneak it into his water? No, he would be able to tell, immediately, that there was a foreign chemical.

Should I tell him that I had the key?

What if he didn't want it? Could I order him to take it? If I did, wouldn't I be just as bad as Vivian?

He brought out a platter of Cornish game hens and Cajun sausage dressing, just like Momma made for holidays so she didn't have arguments about who would have a drumstick or the wishbone.

Why couldn't I find a real man who was as considerate as Oliver? Then, I looked at the other dishes that he placed on the table, and I had to laugh out loud: he had chilled the jellied cranberry sauce and placed it, whole and can-shaped, on the serving dish.

Just like Momma did…

"Beth? Did I do something wrong?" He was by my side immediately and wiping away the tears that had appeared on my face.

"No, you silly man, you did everything right: this is the first Christmas that I've had that felt like home since I started working in Global Justice. I always worked on the holidays so the married agents could be with their families…."

"Beth, this is about you, tonight: no worries about the past or the future: this is your night, your Christmas, from me, to you," he spoke, and my heart sang.

I would tell him…after dinner, when I gave him my gift.

He left, after I had gorged on two hens and he had eaten one; the dressing was wonderful, and the green beans were perfect. Even his dinner rolls were divine. He came back in, and I laughed again: Pecan pie a la mode, complete with my favorite topping: cherry ice cream with a swirl of whipped cream.

He was perfect.

I was falling, head-first, for someone I knew that I couldn't love…not until he'd made his choice.

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(Him)

She enjoyed her dinner, and I enjoyed our conversation: she could talk to me about things and not be worried about violating security protocols.

She laughed when she told me about Special Agent Will Du and the gift he had received from Commander Lindsey Peterson and the look on his face when he opened it.

But, mostly, she relaxed, and for that I was grateful and happy.

I never considered that her happiness would be that important to me.

This was something that made no sense to me.

I realized, after that afternoon with Ron, that, the longer that I was with Beth, the more confused I had become, at times.

Even more, I knew that I enjoyed the confusion, the chaos amidst the order.

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(Her)

He pulled my chair out for me and led me back to the living room.

He had even made a fire in the fireplace. The apple-wood smelled divine, and the oak he was burning along with it made me think of home, once again.

"Thank you, Oliver," I told him as I squeezed his hand. He placed his arm around my shoulder as we sat for a moment or two, but then he stood up and walked over to the tree.

There were presents under it, and he picked up three packages and brought them to me.

"Merry Christmas, Beth: I hope you like them," and, damn it, he made me cry again!

I opened the first package and laughed: he knew me too well, because it was another eye patch, placed on top of…

"A new holster?"

"Yes, Beth: I noted, months ago, that your holster needed repair. When I took it to the shop for you, they told me that it was on its last legs, but that they could duplicate it. I asked them if they could break it in, as well, and make a matching version of for your hip belt," I lifted the holster and saw its twin hip version underneath.

"Oliver, that's wonderful! Thank you," I told him with a big grin on my face.

I placed the box on the table and reached for the next box, opening it to reveal-

"I hope that I have acquired the correct fragrances, Beth," and I stared at the combination of bath salts, bubble baths, and perfumes that was a dream combination that I had always wanted but never purchased for myself.

I was speechless, and I placed the box on the table and lifted the largest, and lightest, box.

I opened it-

"I talked to Ron, and he suggested the item, but I selected the color and texture: they both reminded me of you, Beth: I hope you like it," he said as I stood.

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(Him)

"This is silk," she whispered as she held the nightgown in her hands, gently caressing the garment.

"Yes, it is, Beth: 100 per cent pure silk, and the light lavender, I had always thought, was your best color," I told her, and she was crying, once again.

"Beth? Are you upset? Have I done something wrong?" I asked, more than a bit concerned.

She placed the night gown on the box and both on the table. Then, she held out her hands to me. I took them and stood, and she hugged me as she cried, her tears soaking my shirt.

The wet shirt did not bother me, but I was worried about her tears.

"What is wrong, Beth?"

"Nothing is wrong, Oliver, nothing at all. In fact, it's all perfect. You've given me so much, and I have only one gift for you."

"Beth, you have given me a home, someone to talk to, and, most importantly, friendship: all are worth more than the things that I have given you, for your friendship has been priceless."

She pulled away suddenly and ran, grabbed her briefcase and opened it, pulling out a small wrapped box, and came back to me.

"Merry Christmas, Oliver: I hope that you like it," she smiled shyly as she handed me the box.

I removed the wrapping paper and opened the box: inside was a small vial.

"What is this, Beth?"

"It's your key, Oliver," and I stared at her.

"How did you get it?" I asked.

"Vivian owed me a favor, and I collected," she said, but I could tell that she was lying.

"What do I do?"

"She said that you could drink it with water or some liquid, and it would work in less than 10 minutes.

"Oliver, I wanted to do this for you, give you your freedom to make decisions, to initiate them, so that you could leave it you wanted. I don't want you to leave," she said as she had begun to cry once again, "but I owe you your freedom, for all that you've done for me.

"Oliver, you don't have to do this if you don't want to," she started, but I'd already picked up my glass from the table. I opened the vial and poured the contents into the glass, and drank quickly.

"OLIVER!" Beth stared at me in shock.

"You don't know what will happen to you: it could **kill** you!"

I sat back down on the couch and waited….

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(Her)

I watched him pour the vial into the glass and gulp it down in one drink.

"OLIVER!" I stared at him in shock.

"You don't know what will happen to you: it could **kill** you!"

He sat back down on the couch and waited….

I watched to see if, by some horror, Vivian had done something to the contents.

I watched as Oliver sat, perfectly still and stoic, unblinking, for minutes.

He twitched one, twice, grimaced, then smiled, and went back to his stoic face.

I couldn't wait any longer.

"Well?" I asked impatiently, and he held up his hand for a minute, then dropped it.

He stood, bent over, and then raised his head with a smile on his face, the likes of which I'd never seen from him before.

"Beth," his voice was warm, warmer than it had ever been, as he held his right hand out. I took it, and he pulled me to him, holding me in his arms.

"My Beth, my beautiful, bodacious babe, my lascivious, leggy, luscious lady, the only woman of my dreams, my desires, my fantasies, my love, my life, the only woman who has ever treated me as an equal and not a machine," I looked into those eyes, almost twinkling like the Christmas tree lights as he spoke.

"Elizabeth Director," he began.

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(Him)

"Elizabeth Director, I love you," I told her, and I smashed our lips together for the first time in my new life, me in control.

She tasted the same, yet different: more alive, more aware than I ever imagined she could be.

I had never tasted such life before.

I knew it was because I was now aware of my emotions for the first time in my life, but I didn't care: the woman I loved, had loved for almost a year, was in my arms, and I never wanted to release her.

I could feel her reactions, and I knew she could feel mine, as I felt her smile through her kiss.

I loved these feelings.

I could die happy, now, having kissed Elizabeth, my Elizabeth, and told her that I loved her, for the first time.

I released her lips.

"I love you, Beth," I whispered to her.

"I love you, Oliver," she whispered back to me, and I knew I was alive.

"How do you feel-OH," she grinned; "I guess I know the answer to **that** question, Oliver," she said with a straight face and then giggled.

"I want to see you in your nightgown, Beth. I want to see you, in all of your loveliness; well," I grinned as I whispered, "not **all** of it, just enough to keep me going, for tonight," I told her.

"I'll be right back," she ran, grabbing the nightgown and running for her room, the door slamming behind her.

I sat back down, stunned by everything that had happened in the last few minutes.

'So, you did it,' Vivian's voice came into my head.

'You understand what you've done, don't you, Oliver,' she asked.

'Of course I do, Vivian,' I replied in my head to the program running.

'Very good, Oliver: I'm sorry I had to do this to you, but you needed to spread your wings, and you couldn't do it under me'

'Don't apologize, Vivian: I love her, and she loves me. How long I have doesn't matter; besides, it's only a few years off of a 250-year projected live span, much more than you humans have, anyway,' I laughed in my head.

'I only wanted you to be happy, Oliver,' she said, and I could hear the tears in her voice.

'I am, Vivian; thank you.

'I hope that you're happy, as well, Vivian.'

'I am, Oliver; thank you. I love you, you know.'

'I love you, as well, Vivian: thank you, for everything.'

"Well? What do you think?"

I looked up and placed my eyes on the goddess that was the director of Global Justice, all a-splendor in her silk nightgown, her body visible though the sheer material.

She was beautiful, a vision: her body literally shone through the material, her hourglass figure drawing my eyes to **all** the right places, her hips firm and full, and her legs long and luscious. It was almost too much for me to take in.

"Well?" she asked again, this time striking a very sensual pose (Now, I understood it, and I really, really liked it) along with the smirk on her face.

I patted my lap, and she came and sat, wrapping her arms around my neck.

"Merry Christmas, Oliver."

"Merry Christmas, Beth. I love you."

"I love you, as well, Oliver: I'm calling in sick in the morning," she grinned.

"You'll do no such thing, Beth!" I laughed. "You'll get a good night's sleep and make those agents of yours continue to believe in you and your infallibility by being on time, and I'll bring the food in by 11:30 and set everything up for them."

"You're a doll," she said and kissed me.

"You realize what you've done to me, don't you?" she asked, and I shook my head 'no.'

-----

(Her)

"I've loved you for a long time, Oliver, but I didn't dare tell you. I was the coward this time, and you showed me how to be brave when you told me you loved me."

"Beth, I had no way to tell you, until I drank the key that prevented me from initiating the act, so I guess I was the one who didn't have the heart to tell you: not until then."

"All we need is a Scarecrow and a Dorothy, and we can re-enact 'Oz,'" I laughed.

"Or, more likely, Pinocchio, as you brought me to life, Gepetto," he laughed back at me.

"I definitely brought you to life," I wiggled my hips in his lap.

"I've always liked older women," he joked, and I hit at him and laughed.

"You do realize, Beth, that I'm technically a minor: I've only been functioning for five years," he told me.

"No one would believe that you were five years old," I said, and then I shut him up as I captured his lips, and my tongue went on an exploratory mission.

He joined me in exploration, and I smiled though my kiss.

He stood with me in his arms and walked me to my bedroom, placing me in my side chair.

"You need your sleep, Beth," he told me as he turned my bed down.

"No playtime?" I pouted, doing my Kimberly Ann impression, and he laughed.

"Not tonight, my dear," and he reached down and picked me up again, placing me in the bed and covering me with my sheet and quilt.

"We have the rest of our lives, Beth: the rest of our lives," he smiled and kissed me, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and tried to pull him down.

"Sorry, Beth, but not tonight," he smiled as he pulled back.

"Tomorrow," he said as he turned off the light and closed the door.

I looked up through the skylight and saw the stars over my bed.

"Thank you," I whispered, and the stars twinkled a 'you're welcome.'

I fell asleep to a wonderful sound:

"**_BOOYAH_**!" he yelled from the kitchen, and I smiled.

It was going to be a memorable Christmas night, and I fell asleep, not with visions of sugar plums, but with visions of 'little' Oscars, in ballet tights, dancing in my head.

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**Author's afterward:**

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This is the first of the triptych from the original '_**if lovin' you is wrong**_' trio of short stories. This is my Christmas gift to several very special people in my life:

This new set of stories includes:

…_**a gift from the heart **_(for a very special friend from my past)

_**Christmas with my new Daddy**_ (for my adopted goddaughters and all the kids in blended families)

_**A MoRonic Christmas **_(for...well, you know)

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Thanks for reading, and please review.

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